


pretty please

by bubbleteabunny



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26298640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleteabunny/pseuds/bubbleteabunny
Summary: Zuko sees you by the Firelight Fountain and if it were by luck or by fate, he doesn't know, but he's glad for it all the same.
Relationships: Zuko (Avatar)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85





	pretty please

**Author's Note:**

> who hasn't written anything in months?? this girlie hehehe (=｀ω´=)

The doors of the Jasmine Dragon are always open to welcome patrons and a cool breeze. Zuko marks the beginning and end of each day by the size of the crowd—which grows in the early hours and keeps him and Uncle Iroh decently busy until finally it begins to shrink—and by the crisp air which greets him in the morning and again in the evening, both instances when the sun is hidden by the horizon. Heavy rain has been pouring over Ba Sing Se as of late, but today is the first day where the clouds have cleared, and Zuko is once again able to gauge the time by the color of the sky: at opening, a wash of indigo with strips of pale yellow at the horizon like the sands of a faraway land, and at closing, reds and oranges like fire.

Dusk paints the rug in the center of the shop in a warm-toned light, the jasmine dragons embroidered upon it more like crimson dragons now. Zuko gently sets the tray with its empty pot and teacups down on the counter before turning around to wave at the last customers of the evening. They’d lingered to chat with Uncle Iroh, and Zuko had spent the time tidying the rest of the shop, so that once it’s just the two of them left, most of the cleaning is done.

Zuko yawns, feeling the fatigue catching up to him now that the place is silent but for the quiet clinking of ceramic dishes. Uncle Iroh chuckles. 

“Tired?” he asks.

Zuko shrugs, a noncommittal answer. “A little, but I think I’d rather eat dinner than go to sleep right now.” As if on cue, his stomach growls. It had been busier than usual today, and as consequence, he’d decided to work through lunch. 

“Did someone say ‘dinner’?” 

A loud voice carries from all the way across the threshold, prompting Zuko and Uncle Iroh to see who it is. Sokka leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and crooked smile on his face. “Because I could do with some food right about now.”

Upon realizing who is standing there, Zuko smiles widely. “Sokka! You didn’t mention you’d be in Ba Sing Se.”

“To be honest, I didn’t really plan on it, but I was in the area, and you know how the saying goes: spontaneity is the spice of life, and yada yada.” Sokka waves a hand dismissively. 

Catching up with a friend he hasn’t seen in a while makes Zuko look forward to dinner even more, but he stops short and glances to his right, where Uncle Iroh is already watching him.

“Go,” he encourages with a nod. “I’ll clean up here.”

“Thank you, Uncle.” Zuko gives a respectful bow, and then he’s traipsing across the teashop to join Sokka, and they descend the steps together into a dark and brilliant night.

The first subject of conversation is figuring out where to eat, and after tossing a few suggestions back and forth, they settle on a noodle bar that stays open late. If they get caught up talking for too long, they could remain there a while. The rest of the walk, then, is spent swapping stories of what they’ve been up to since last they saw each other. Zuko listens attentively, smiling absentmindedly, truly interested in the adventures his friend has been on.

It’s when the tables are turned and Sokka asks _What about you?_ that Zuko heaves a sigh, shoulders sagging. He’d been so busy back in the Fire Nation with diplomatic affairs, talking to this person and then that person, visiting other regions and welcoming ambassadors to his own. By now, he handles his position as Fire Lord with grace and respectability, but he’s still human and gets worn out too.

“That’s why I came to Ba Sing Se,” he explains. “To get away from all that and just spend time with Uncle.” And sure, he gets tired after working at the Jasmine Dragon all day, but it’s mostly from being on his feet, going from the back of the shop to the front to serve customers, a route he repeats for hours. It’s a different sort of tired from fulfilling his duties as the Fire Lord, and is entirely worth it to him, to take a moment to be no one but Zuko, a guy who works at a teashop.

Sokka smiles sympathetically. “I’m glad I chose to stop by Ba Sing Se. I was wondering how you’d been doing.”

The stress slowly melts away as Zuko smiles back, his shoulders not feeling nearly as heavy as when he’d first arrived in the city. He misses his friends whenever they’re all apart, and he too has lingering thoughts about their wellbeing always in the back of his mind as he goes about his days, and now that he’s finally reunited with one, he’s beginning to feel more like himself again, pulled back down to the ground.

As they turn the corner, the Firelight Fountain comes into full view, yellow lanterns illuminating the ground and the nearby buildings. Though it’s dark, there are still people here, either passing through on the way to their destinations or choosing to congregate on the benches and the edge of the fountain itself. It’s in the latter location that Zuko spots you.

You’re seated a little farther away from the only other two people who have chosen the fountain as a place to rest, perhaps to afford you some quiet as you read a book. The gurgle of the water behind you serves as a perfect white noise, enough to fill the silence but not to pull your attention away. 

“Ah… She’s pretty cute.”

Zuko blinks and glances at Sokka. “What?”

Sokka tilts his head in your direction. “I saw you looking at her.”

“Wha—I was not.” But Zuko’s avoiding eye contact and his cheeks feel warm, embarrassed to have been caught (even if he hadn’t exactly been attempting subtly to begin with).

“Hey, come on, nothing to be shy about!” Sokka playfully nudges him with his elbow, and they slow to a complete stop, finding themselves now under the lights of all the lanterns, stopped just on the inside edge of where the light meets the darkness it couldn’t quite reach. Zuko’s still not looking at him, and Sokka’s grin grows. He is thoroughly amused. “You should go talk to her.”

Zuko shakes his head. “No!” he replies hastily. And then, more slowly, “She looks busy anyway.”

Sokka raises a brow. “I bet she’d make time for you. Any girl would.”

The matter-of-fact way in which Sokka says this is flattering, truly, but it doesn’t convince Zuko that approaching you would be anything but a bad idea. “Forget about it. Let’s just get food.” He tries to continue walking but Sokka is quick to clap him on the shoulder, halting his steps, and he just barely keeps from stumbling backwards from the sudden stop in momentum. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Sokka declares. Zuko brushes his hand off with a groan and twists around, a silent plea to let the subject drop inherent in his eyes, but Sokka easily ignores it. “What if she’s your _soulmate_? You can’t just keep walking!”

“My… soulmate?” Okay, now Sokka is starting to blow this out of proportion. He’d spared a glance your way because you were pretty and that was _it_. “There’s no such thing—”

“You don’t know that!” Sokka exclaims. 

“And you do?” Zuko counters.

Sokka shrugs but it’s not a sign of defeat. “I’m just saying, when the soul knows, it knows. You didn’t pick her out of the crowd for no reason.”

It’s awfully dramatic and Zuko opens his mouth to respond but then closes it, deciding he wouldn’t win this debate. Sokka is persistent when he wants to be, and when it comes to the topic of love, Zuko’s on the losing side every time. He knows, however, that if he were really insistent, Sokka would let it drop and they would resume their walk to the noodle bar, but it wouldn’t be without a warning that Zuko was making a _huge mistake and that he’d regret it, going to bed thinking about you and then dreaming about you but he’d never be able to find you again_ —

Even imaginary Sokka is hard to handle and Zuko takes a deep breath, momentarily diverting his gaze from the real Sokka in front of him over to you, and back again. 

“So…” Sokka trails off, watching him expectantly.

“I’d mess it up,” Zuko offers weakly in the way of an excuse.

“You’re the _Fire Lord_ ,” Sokka says as if that solves the issue. “You got this!”

“I don’t… really see how that’s supposed to help me…” Zuko tilts his head, confused.

Sokka rolls his eyes. “Just go!” He gives Zuko an encouraging shove.

With a quiet huff, Zuko ambles in the direction of the fountain, where you still sit reading, none the wiser to the fact you were the subject of their conversation. Halfway through the walk, he looks over his shoulder at Sokka, who gestures enthusiastically for him to keep going and to stop looking over here because you’re over there and you’re what’s important.

_Is it too late to turn around?_ Zuko thinks begrudgingly to himself as he sets his sights on you. He ruminates on the question with every step he takes, reasoning that perhaps he _could_ deal with Sokka talking off his ear about how he will regret not doing anything, because surely Sokka couldn’t keep it up for _that_ long, right? (The immediate doubt Zuko feels upon considering this point speaks for the contrary.) 

But before he can make up his mind, suddenly he’s in front of you and though he’s said nothing, you sense his presence and your eyes slide up from the pages of your novel to him, the lower half of your face concealed by the hardcover. The few seconds of silence that follow feel instead like a few years, panic filling Zuko as he fails to say anything. Your eyes flicker to the side, which he assumes you do to check if he’d actually meant to approach someone else because, well, why would he be talking to you? You don’t know each other.

“That book seems really interesting,” he says finally, and he wants to crawl into a hole and hide. Five words in and it is already not going well. What kind of opening was _that_?

You blink and lower the book, using a finger to mark your place before closing it to get a better view of the cover. It’s blank.

“W-Well, I just thought it was really interesting there’s nothing on the cover!” Zuko rushes out. “Since, you know, you usually don’t see that, and… and…” His intention was to segue into asking you what it was about, having decided that to be his way into a longer interaction with you, but the words die in his throat the longer he looks at you now that your face isn’t hidden because you’re a _lot_ prettier up close and he learns tonight that you’re what all those love stories must be talking about when they extol the levels of beauty which render a lovesick heart speechless. 

If you’re bothered by the bouts of silence, this most recent one stretching longer than the first, you don’t say anything. In contrast, you continue to sit there, watching him steadily, waiting patiently, and Zuko feels bad that he’s so bad at _this_. Never has the act of talking come less easily than it does now, in a situation where the stakes are lower than any dialogues he has with diplomats or government officials. It really shouldn’t be this difficult talking to a girl, but maybe he has it backwards and the stakes _here_ are higher, because if he entertains Sokka’s admittedly outrageous claim just a few minutes previous about what you could possibly mean to Zuko, and if in fact the hands which keep the world turning are also those which keep hearts beating with purpose to seek out their companion, then the stakes as he stands here are the highest of all.

He’s still scrambling for what to say next, entirely unsure how to salvage a conversation that hasn’t even taken off yet. Nervously he rubs the back of his neck. Sokka must be observing the whole situation unfolding with equal parts stress and exasperation because even if Zuko isn’t actually flailing his arms, helpless and drowning in an open sea called love, his awkward posture and anxious spluttering are enough of a metaphorical signal. Sokka’s on the shore, too far to come to his rescue right away, but maybe this will go the way of those romantic tales and it will be you who holds a hand out to save him instead. 

However, you’re beaten to the punch by those aforementioned invisible hands of destiny as they, quite literally, push Zuko closer to his own. A couple of kids dash past the fountain, laughing loudly as they chase each other in a game, and one of them checks Zuko in the back, which causes him to stumble forward. 

He manages to catch himself with a hand braced on the edge of the fountain, and luckily too, because if he hadn’t, he would’ve fallen on you and knocked both of you back into the water. But now the two of you are face-to-face, mere inches away, and your eyes are wide in surprise and he is _mortified_. This entire conversation (if one could call it that) he had been plagued with the urge to apologize for being so _skittish_ and acting so _strange_ and the urge multiplies now because _he could’ve accidentally kissed you_ and he’s honestly not sure what would be worse—that, or the two of you tumbling into the fountain.

This close up, the top half of your face takes up most of his field of vision, but in his peripherals he notices the curl of your mouth, and his gaze briefly drops down to it, to the smile which has found its way there.

“Looks like you just _fell_ for me,” you remark teasingly, the quip slipping from your lips so easily and in this moment he can think only of two things: one, that your voice is incredibly soft, like the first warm light of morning settling on his skin, and two, that you have no idea how right you are.

Zuko’s wrist begins to feel slightly sore from bearing the brunt of his weight and that’s when he realizes he’s stayed that way for too long, and he clears his throat and stands back up straight. “S-Sorry…” he says quietly. For being skittish and acting strange and, now, for almost falling on you.

Your smile widens and it reaches your eyes and in their depths are the reflection of the lanterns surrounding you both and Zuko can’t help but liken them to stars strung across the sky. “It’s okay.”

The tension has slowly ebbed away, your almost-collision the perfect ice breaker. It had been a shocking one, certainly, but that was what Zuko needed. Anything more subtle and he probably wouldn’t have felt relaxed enough to think clearly. From the few words you’ve said, he knows you’re far from bothered by him approaching you, and he’s able to calm down a little bit.

“So as I was saying, that book of yours…” Internally he cringes. Why did he have to go back to the _book_? This was the perfect chance to steer the topic elsewhere! What was he supposed to follow up to _that_?

“It _is_ interesting,” you comment. Zuko’s cheeks heat up. You’d noticed his struggle. But he is grateful nonetheless that you’re helping carry the conversation along. The fact you’re seemingly in no rush to end it must be a good sign. 

“I could explain it to you, the plot, since there’s no summary or even title on it or anything, so…” You trail off and he wonders if he’s imagining the nervousness suddenly inherent in your amiable grin, as you go quiet and look up at him and—oh. _Oh._

This is the opening he’d been looking for, the one he’d been unable to find himself because he is completely helpless in scenarios like these. If the universe and its mysterious machinations had been the hand to keep him from drowning, you’re on the lifeboat checking to make sure he’s okay, the sun behind your head a halo and maybe heaven feels like a warm day and smells like salt in the ocean. And maybe it looks like you.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Zuko states. “Maybe over some tea?”

“I’d like that.”  


Then, before he has the chance to change his mind, “Are you free right now?”

The question stops you short, and he’d completely understand if you said no. This is incredibly short notice, and there was no issue with making plans for another day. But you have no qualms about the sudden invitation, for you place your bookmark to save the page then stand, clutching your book close to your chest. “I am.”

Zuko grins lopsidedly. “Great.”

He guides you in the direction of the Jasmine Dragon, and as you begin to walk, while your focus is on the path in front of you, he glances quickly over at Sokka. He wouldn’t have made the split second decision to ask you out right now if he didn’t think Sokka would be fine with it. But he knows his friend well and Sokka is, indeed, perfectly okay with the unexpected turn in the evening. From across the way, by the lanterns farthest from you two, he is smiling proudly and giving a thumbs up. They would have time to catch up tomorrow (and Zuko is sure Sokka will want him to recount everything about his time with you).

At the teashop, he tells you to pick any table you’d like while he goes to prepare a pot of tea. You both lose track of time as you talk, for the conversation opens up to other avenues aside from your novel, and Zuko notes that the tea he’s drinking has never tasted so good. It reminds him of something he heard a while ago, hazy in his mind currently, and he wracks his brain trying to recall it. What was it that Uncle said? 

_The best thing to have with tea is a good friend._ Yes, that sounds correct. Zuko can envision him as he says that, a teacup clutched in his hands and wise grin on his face, and at the thought, Zuko hides his smile behind his own as he takes another sip. But the move doesn’t escape you, and you catch the small smile. It makes you halt in the middle of your sentence to address it. 

“What?” you ask, amused and curious.

Zuko shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” 

Your eyes are sparkling and he knows that you know he’s lying, but for his sake you drop the subject, instead returning to your original topic. And he continues to listen and hang on all your words and he is the luckiest man in the world because he’s sharing tea with someone who is beginning to feel like so much more. 

He’s left wondering if this is the feeling of finding the one, the right one, the one for him. He doesn’t want to give this to Sokka, to admit that okay, perhaps there _had_ been substance to what Sokka had claimed and maybe the idea of soulmates _is_ real, and not just written about in stories for the lovestruck and the romantic. But then you dazzle him with a large smile in response to something he says, and he doesn’t dwell on the question for long as he comes to the conclusion that honestly, the answer doesn’t really matter to him.


End file.
